


Old Chum

by RebKa (RkB)



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Alfred Pennyworth is the Best, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Dick Grayson Angst, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Gen, Hurt Dick Grayson, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Robin Dick Grayson, Protective Bruce Wayne, Romani Dick Grayson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:28:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28413177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RkB/pseuds/RebKa
Summary: An 8 year old Dick Grayson, newly bereaved, finds himself in juvenile hall.Bruce Wayne takes in the traumatized and battered child.  Can he help his new ward deal with the pain and help him learn to trust again?
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne
Comments: 18
Kudos: 123





	Old Chum

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TaizaiAlchemist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaizaiAlchemist/gifts).



> Thank you to TaizaiAlchemist for this lovely story idea. I had fun working on it! I hope that I have done the concept some justice! 
> 
> *Please note*: there is not a lot of comic book relevance here. I took a lot of creative liberty, so please do not be upset if origin stories and timelines don’t make  
> too much sense. 
> 
> This is one of the reasons I love fan fiction so much, we can be free to be imaginative and play with stories. 
> 
> Please comment! I love reading your comments! - xo 

“Do you see anybody out front, Alfred? They should be out by now. This _was_ the pre-arranged time,”

Bruce looked down at his gold wristwatch and double checked the time as Alfred parked the Rolls Royce in front of the doors of the Gotham Juvenile Detention Facility. 

“No sir, I cannot see anybody. Shall I go inside and inquire, Master Bruce?”

“No thank you, Alfred. I’ll go and sort this out. Just wait here for us, please.”

With that, Bruce exited the back of the car and strode in through the front doors of the gloomy facility on a warpath for some answers.

Today was the day he would finally be able to bring young Richard Grayson home with him and out of this God-forsaken establishment. 

Bruce had been present for the moment when the child’s parents were killed, and he was reminded of how he had felt so desperately alone and in such despair after his own similar tragedy. 

Even despite Bruce’s misfortune, he figured he was quite fortunate that he had Alfred and the manor left. Bruce discovered that the young acrobat had no other extended family to take him in, nor did he have a permanent home or anything that would be left in his name. Bruce found that he could not stop thinking about these facts and knew that he must assist and advocate for the child in whatever way he could. 

Child Protective Services had become involved immediately and to the billionaire’s absolute horror, he discovered that the best they could do for the innocent child was to throw him into juvie like he was some kind of hooligan. Sure there were no available foster homes and zero space in the only orphanage in the city, but putting the child into a detention facility? Bruce could not allow that to happen. 

Bruce had not planned to have children, especially not at his young age and with a ‘billionaire playboy’ facade to maintain, but remembering that bereaved child’s grief stricken eyes and recalling that look in his own eyes many years ago, convinced him that he had to take in the young circus boy. 

Now, weeks after the tragedy and several thousands of dollars spent on legal fees, plus hundreds of hours of legal consultations and court hearings later, he was _finally_ permitted to bring Richard home as his ward.

It would do for now, Alfred convinced Bruce that a wardship was better than nothing as the judge didn’t want to grant a playboy imaged bachelor full adoptive rights.

Presently, as Bruce stormed up to the front counter of the juvenile detention centre, he had to remind himself to stay calm and not become too nervous or agitated. Bruce could admit that he was nervous to take on such a large responsibility. 

“Ahem..”, 

Bruce cleared his throat to get the clerk’s attention. 

The young woman peered up from her computer screen to glance at Bruce from behind the thick layer of protective plexiglass,

“Yeah? You here to see an inmate?”

“No. I’m here to pick up Richard Grayson. He was to be discharged into my care...”, he paused and glanced down at his watch for dramatic effect, “... 15 minutes ago.”

The receptionist paled a little and replied,

“you’re billionaire, Bruce Wayne?”

“Yes.”

“Um, yeah, I was told to bring you to the head director’s office. There... there’s been a little issue,”

“Issue?” Bruce felt a pang of irritation. He had sent all of his legal documents to the detention centre in advance and he wasn’t told there would be any problems,

“The director will explain,”

Bruce was led to a back office and stood in wait for the so called director to meet with him. The nameplate on her desk read, ‘Marjorie Dean’.

A tall and stern blonde haired woman entered and had Bruce sit down across the desk from her. Her office bearing a slight resemblance to her outward aura. Plainly decorated and no personal touches.

She sat up rigid and straight and began,

“Mr. Wayne. Apologies for not having Richard ready to go as we had arranged. There was an incident last night.”

“An incident?” Bruce felt his chest tighten, 

“Yes. I’m sorry to say that young Mr. Grayson has made some enemies during his stay here. I’m told that he often riles up the other kids by not speaking English and the fact that he is younger, smaller and ... well, not American... I suppose it is safe to say they did not take kindly to him. 

Mr. Wayne, I can’t truly blame the kids for not trusting a strange little _G**** boy_. You know how kids can be when somebody is odd and out of place. He didn’t try to make any friends during his stay either,”

Bruce resisted the urge to stand up and grab the apathetic and racist woman by the collar. 

Obviously a child who just lost his entire world wouldn’t be focussed on making friends, and he would naturally revert to his mother tongue during this time of great stress. This woman was clearly discriminatory and didn’t seem to give a damn that she was dealing with a highly traumatized child. 

With a great deal of self-control, Bruce shook away the beginning stages of the burning rage and panic that he was feeling,

“Just bring him to me. I just want to take him home now.”

“It’s not so simple, Mr. Wayne. You see the kids who Richard does not get along with, attacked him while he was sleeping yesterday. He started yelling something in _his language_ during his sleep I am told. Perhaps this upset the other children and provoked the attack? 

Whatever the reason, he suffered a broken arm and is just in the process of being released from the medical wing now. I have told the nurse to bring him here once the doctor has finished with him.”

Bruce felt his blood pressure skyrocket as his face grew incredibly hot, 

“WHAT?! How does an 8 year old child get attacked in this place?! Much less a completely innocent one!!! Who the hell was supposed to be protecting him?!”

The director backed up in her chair, slightly ruffled by Bruce’s raised voice,

“Mr Wayne if you do not calm yourself, I will have you removed from the premises.”

“You will take me to him right now, or else...”

Bruce did not get to finish his threat because at that moment the door to the office opened and a nurse wheeled in a shockingly battered and bruised little boy. 

Bruce felt tears instantly well up behind his eyes, but kept them sucked firmly in his head, not wanting the horrible woman in front of him to see his weakness. 

Bruce didn’t realize he could feel so protective of a child he hardly knew, but the sight of the tiny arm in an equally tiny cast and sling, in addition to the kid’s lacerated and bruised face was almost too much to bear. 

The billionaire quickly crouched down in front of the boy’s wheelchair and noticed that one eye was completely swollen shut and the other blue eye was hazy and unfocused. The young lad was totally out of it... unresponsive and loaded up on pain medication. 

Bruce slowly stood up. He stilled himself and kept his volcanic temper under wraps,

“Ms. Dean. You will make me a copy of Richard’s file information including every single note and detail of his stay here immediately,”

Bruce did not receive any resistance to his request for the documents he demanded, rather, he was handed a file folder with the paperwork very promptly. 

Bruce began to gently wheel his youthful ward out of the office, taking care not to jostle his little body around as the boy’s head limply lolled to one side. As he left, he turned his head slightly and stated firmly, “you will be hearing from my lawyers.”

As he walked away, Bruce noticed the small plastic bag hanging off the back of the wheelchair’s handle. A quick peek in the bag revealed a small stuffed elephant, a tiny cracked picture frame with a photo of the ‘Flying Graysons’ in it, a rolled up circus poster and a few basic articles of clothing. 

Bruce realized that these were the only possessions that belonged to this vulnerable little child. The solitary, salvageable pieces left of his broken life and family. 

Bruce compared the little bag’s contents to the immense riches he had inherited from his parents and all of the priceless mementos throughout the manor. He had all of his parents’ cars, old clothing, jewelry, albums upon albums of family photos, paintings, home videos ...etc etc... by which to remember their lives and family history whenever he wished to. 

Bruce recalled thinking that having so many reminders of his deceased parents around all of the time was perhaps too painful, but he now considered the alternative and what few mementos the young acrobat had and he immediately felt devastated for his new ward. 

As Bruce continued to transport Richard through the dim and gloomy hallway, and before he reached Alfred at the car, he allowed a couple of the tears he had been holding behind his eyes to fall.

~

Alfred gasped in horror when he saw the state of their newest family member.

“Dear heavens, Master Bruce! What happened to the poor boy?”

“Let’s get him into the car, Alfred, I’ll explain on the way home.”

And so they did manage to gently move the now unconscious, injured child into the back of the vehicle. His little head rested softly on Bruce’s lap. Bruce lightly stroked the boy’s soft, jet black hair and felt an immediate need to protect this boy with his life. 

He explained to Alfred what he had been told happened to Richard. 

“My Lord! Hasn’t the young chap suffered enough already? I dare say there needs to be some review of the practices in that dreadful place.”

“You read my mind, Alfred. I will be speaking with the Wayne Foundation regarding their funding and instituting an overhaul of their staffing,” Bruce sneered feeling some satisfaction that the callous, racist director would be deservedly unemployed soon.

Bruce wishes that Richard could have been awake to see them pull up to the outside of the manor and to observe his new home. He wishes that he could have given his new resident a warm welcome and a tour of the manor including the freshly updated games room and gym with brand new gymnastics equipment he had installed for Richard to enjoy. 

Instead, Bruce carried the unconscious acrobat to his new bedroom. Bruce and Alfred attempted to make Richard as comfortable as possible in order to help him heal from his injuries.

~

A couple of nights later, Bruce was roused from his slumber by an ear piercing scream. Bruce rushed to the boy’s bedside from the armchair he was sleeping in. He hadn’t felt comfortable just leaving Richard alone in the event that he woke up not knowing where he was, and now the boy was finally awake.

Richard was thrashing wildly and Bruce feared he would cause damage to his already injured arm, so Bruce decided to hold him still. At this action Dick shrieked out,

“Mami! Tati! Vă rog!! Vă rog să mă ajutați!!”

Bruce understood the boy’s cries for his parents and pleas for help. Bruce was glad he had taken time over the past few weeks to diligently learn some of the basics of Richard’s language. He vowed to continue for the sake of his ward and thankfully picking up new languages came easily to Bruce. 

Bruce attempted to get through to the boy by telling him he was safe in his own language,

“Richard, ești în siguranță acum.”

Dick stilled at the sound of the broken Romanian, and he seemed to understand the words. He attempted to snap his eyes open. One eye did, but the other opened just slightly as it was still swollen from the attack at the detention centre. 

Bruce decided to try his luck speaking English with the boy,

“Richard,” he began in a very soft and low tone, “you’re not at that bad place anymore. You’re safe and you live here at Wayne Manor now. Do you understand me?”

The boy’s good eye examined Bruce carefully, he breathed deeply a few times and then he pointed a careful finger towards the larger man,

“You... Mr. Wayne?” 

“Yes sweetheart, I am Mr. Wayne, but just call me Bruce, ok?”

“I live with Bruce at he house”, 

Bruce stopped himself from giggling at the adorable way Dick rolled the ‘r’ when he said ‘Bruce’. Not wanting the child to feel self-conscious when speaking English.

Bruce was glad that Richard knew who he was; it appeared that the staff at the detention centre had at least informed him that he would be leaving to live at Wayne Manor.

“Yes, and this is your house now too, Richard.”

The young child looked at Bruce and then pointed at himself,

“I... Dick”,

“I’m sorry?” Bruce questioned as he blinked in confusion,

“Mă numesc... Dick,” came the reply when Dick couldn’t quite find the right words in English. 

“Ohhh, your name! So you prefer to be called, Dick?”

Dick nodded and again pointed at himself, 

“Dick. My family call me,”

“I understand now, Dick. Your full name is Richard, but your parents called you, Dick. Your nickname. Got it!”

Dick nodded and smiled shyly. Bruce smiled back at the boy, he was glad to see a happy expression on the boy’s face, even if it was just a small trace for now. 

“How are you feeling, Dick? Want to try and get some more sleep?”

Dick shifted uncomfortably. He looked to be groggy and in some pain, but he didn’t admit to it for fear of causing a fuss. Instead, Dick simply responded, 

“I fine.”

Bruce reached out towards Dick’s head to smooth back his hair for comfort as Alfred used to do with him when he was a child.

Dick gasped and flinched back. He quickly closed his eyes tightly in what looked to be a reflexive, fear response. Bruce immediately pulled his hands back and away,

“Dick! No, no, it’s ok. I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.”

Dick realized his actions and hastily stammered out,

“S-sorry,”

Bruce didn’t take the boy’s reaction personally. It wasn’t hard to understand the 8 year old’s lack of trust in other people, especially not after his most recent interactions with them. Bruce slowly and deliberately tried reaching out again, but this time he just put his hand on top of Dick’s hand and patted lightly. 

The young acrobat seemed to warm to that gentle, safe touch. Bruce felt his insides melt. He felt such concern and anxiety for Dick, yet he also felt a strong sense of tenderness and the insistent need to do right by the kid as well,

_’Is this what it’s like to be a parent?_ , he wondered as he watched the sweet child drift back to sleep.

~

A month passed by and Dick’s arm had healed to the point where his cast could be removed.

Bruce unfortunately hadn’t had much time to spend with his new ward due to the demands of his day and night jobs. As much as he wanted to comfort Dick during his nightmares every single night, or be there to eat breakfast and dinner together, there were many times when Batman’s responsibilities were too important to ignore. 

Dick had grown much closer to Alfred as he spent most of his waking hours with the always present butler.

Dick also seemed to enjoy his homeschooling very much and being so intelligent he excelled in his studies. He never complained or asked for anything. This seemed an amazing feat for an 8 year old child. 

Alfred informed Bruce that Dick did run around and spend time exploring the manor and the grounds outside, but whenever Bruce was around, he found that Dick mostly kept to himself by playing quietly, reading or drawing. He seemed to be mindful of Bruce’s presence but content nonetheless. 

Everything appeared to be going well until Alfred confronted Bruce one morning,

“Master Bruce. Young Master Dick asked me this morning why you haven’t been seen around the manor very much lately. 

As much as I greatly enjoy my time with the boy, you are the one who wished to assume the responsibility of taking on a ward. I must also inform you that Master Dick has expressed to me that perhaps you do not wish to see him.”

Bruce thought for a moment about Dick and didn’t think anything had been amiss,

“Dick said this? But he seems to be happy every time I see him,”

“Master Bruce, if I may inquire, what is the longest amount of time you have spent with the child during the past 3 weeks?”

Bruce sat in contemplative silence holding his warm cup of coffee in his hands. Bruce felt guilt wash over him as he realized that after Dick’s first week at the manor, he had returned to his full day/night duties and has only really seen Dick in passing. 

Bruce felt a gentle but firm grasp on his shoulder,

“Master Bruce, perhaps you could take Master Dick to the shops this afternoon to pick out some new clothing for his wardrobe? He still only has the clothing he arrived with and his current outfits will be inadequate with the changing seasons. 

Bruce’s mind flashed back to the plastic grocery bag containing all of Dick’s possessions. Bruce metaphorically kicked himself realizing that Dick was still cycling through the same few outfits for the past month and longer... the only few outfits he owned. 

“Of course, Alfred. I should have thought of that myself.”

“Master Bruce, if I might add, he is truly a remarkable child.”

“Any idea where he is now, Alfred?”

“Master Dick is free from his studies today, so I assume he is either in his room or the games room.”

Bruce downed the last few sips of his coffee in one big gulp and then set off in search of Dick.

~

Bruce wandered around looking for the young lad as he wasn’t in his room or the games room. He wasn’t in the library or theatre room either.

That’s when Bruce heard a series of noises coming from the special gym he had installed just for Dick prior to his arrival at the manor. This gym was equipped with gymnastics and circus types of apparatuses including some Olympic rings, a trapeze, some uneven parallel bars, a trampoline and a bunch of other items that Bruce wasn’t even familiar with, but had purchased anyway in case Dick wanted them. 

The reason Bruce didn’t check that particular area sooner was due to the fact that nobody should be inside that gym right now. 

Bruce had decided that he didn’t want to show Dick the specialty gym yet as he was concerned that Dick could accidentally aggravate or re-injure his freshly healed arm. So, as a precaution, Bruce had kept the door locked with a very complex and tamper proof lock... or so he thought it was tamper proof.

Bruce examined the lock on the outside of the door and found a heavy duty paper clip had been unbent and re-formed into a makeshift lock pick... 

_’That clever little scamp,’_ Bruce quipped to himself, _’he must have gone through the desk in my study to get that particular paperclip,’_

Bruce had to admit that he was very impressed by his brilliant and unsuspecting busy bee of a ward. 

Bruce slinked into the gym undetected using his Batman-like stealth skills.

His jaw dropped as he watched Dick twirling through the air on the uneven bars. Flipping from one bar to the other seamlessly and with a grace that could only be obtained from years of hard work and discipline. 

This boy was absolutely incredible. 

A few minutes later, Dick halted his routine to take a quick rest. The brief respite consisted of Dick hanging upside down on one of the bars, with his knees bent and hooked around the bar to keep himself in place. 

Bruce decided to emerge from the darker corner of the room at that point and clapped his hands to applaud Dick’s astounding show of athleticism.

Dick’s eyes flew wide open and immediate panic set in once he realized he had been discovered in the ‘forbidden room’. 

His body grew stiff from the shock and without realizing it, his legs straightened out,

“Dick!!” Bruce yelled rushing forward, but he was too far away to stop Dick from crashing to the ground.

Bruce thanked his lucky stars that he had ordered very thick mats to line the floors underneath all of the equipment, and very luckily, Dick didn’t fall onto his head but rather on his side.

Dick lay unmoving on the ground as Bruce crouched down hurriedly beside him,

“Dick?! Are you alright?!! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you!”

Dick just stared, not making eye contact with Bruce. 

“Dickie.. sweetie, can you talk to me? Are you ok?”

Dick didn’t say anything but just replied with a quick nod of his head indicating that he was ok.

Dick started to tremble violently and his breaths grew very shallow and rapid.

_’Fuck, he is having a panic attack!’_

Bruce crouched even lower and began to speak soothingly to Dick,

“Dick, it’s going to be ok. You’re alright. You’re safe here, nobody is going to hurt you. I won’t hurt you.”

Bruce rubbed slow circles onto Dick’s back and continued,

“Dick, I need you to breathe with me ok? Breathe in.... and now breathe out...”

Bruce demonstrated a simple breathing technique for Dick to follow which he did after a few more examples from Bruce.

Bruce tenderly wiped the copious amount of tears from Dick’s cheeks as the water continued to flow. 

Eventually, Dick regained his senses and the child’s face flushed bright red over his olive skin, 

“Mr. W-Wayne.. I sorry.”

Bruce stopped and looked at his ward. He knew Dick’s English had gotten quite good thanks to his home tutors and so clearly his broken English in this moment was due to the overwhelming emotions he must have been feeling,

“Dick? Why do you feel sorry?”

Dick kept his head down and didn’t reply,

“Chum? Please tell me what you’re thinking about,”

Dick took a moment to select the right words to use in English and he whispered, 

“You ... you will take me back to jail?”

More tears started to flow, the downward emotional spiral began again and Dick’s voice grew louder and more frantic,

“I am sorry. I very bad. You don’t want me. I am alone... alone... I want.... fam-family. Daddy... Mami.... no! Please! ... no... no die.... no!! why?!! Come back!!”

Dick pulled at his hair desperately, he sobbed uncontrollably while curling into himself and let out a bunch of pained screams between the sobs. 

Bruce felt a lump form in his throat and wetness building behind his own eyes. Bruce fought to keep himself stoic so that he could be a calming presence for this shattered boy. 

Bruce knew exactly what Dick’s words and actions meant. Bruce understood how lost, afraid and empty this boy in front of him was feeling. The visceral screams brought back Bruce’s own memories of loss. The screams that only a person who had dealt with similar loss and trauma could comprehend. 

Bruce flashed back to memories of when he was the one whose parents had just died. He heard his own private screams echoing in his ears along with Dick’s. He could swear that he had felt that deep, exhausting physical and mental pain that Dick must be feeling right now, many times before. 

Bruce looked at the broken child and the only thing he could think to do was to grab him and pull him into a tight and protective hug. Words could not come close to being enough in the moment. 

Bruce rocked Dick, smoothed his hair, and let him cry for however long he needed to. 

Dick melted into the embrace and continued to let his emotions out. Bruce wondered in that moment if this was the first time Dick was getting to actually express his grief since his parents’ death. Also, when was the last time anybody had ever just hugged this poor child? 

Clearly, his time at the Detention Centre was solely focussed on survival, so it made sense that every bottled up feeling came exploding forth like a volcano of grief. 

Bruce was glad he could offer some comfort and that Dick didn’t flinch away from Bruce’s touch this time.

Alfred burst into the room having heard the commotion and screaming,

“Sirs! Is everything alright?!” 

Bruce looked up and shakily nodded. 

Dick kept his head down and stayed wrapped in Bruce’s embrace for the time being. 

“Oh my, young Master Dick,”. Alfred remarked sympathetically, “Master Bruce, I will be preparing some cookies if you and Master Dick would like to come up to the kitchen in a short while.”

“Thank you, Alfred,” murmured Bruce still clutching on to Dick.

When Alfred had left, Bruce decided to try and speak to Dick again,

“Dickie, chum, I know it feels scary and you feel alone right now. I want you to know that I will never send you back to jail or anywhere else. You belong here now, with me and Alfred. We will protect you,”

Bruce ran his fingers through Dick’s hair and decided to share,

“I don’t know how much you know about me, but my parents were killed when I was a kid too,”

Dick shifted to look up at Bruce with his red and watery eyes. He squeaked out,

“Alfred told me,”

“Hn, yes I figured he would have. So I just want you to know that I think I know how you’re feeling. Scared and lonely, and sometimes it hurts so much that you think you can’t handle it anymore,”

Dick nodded and sniffled.

“You can always come and talk to me if you are feeling afraid or sad. You can ask me anything and I will try to help you. You can trust me.”

Dick looked like he was going to say something in response but hesitated,

“Go ahead, kiddo, what do you want to say?”

“Bruce, you are mad at me because I came in here?”

“Oh Chum, not at all! I actually had this room made just for you. I want you to feel happy here and I thought you might miss all of your special equipment that you had at the circus. I only wanted to keep it locked until I knew all of your injuries were healed,”

“This... is for me?” Dick asked in stunned disbelief,

“Yes. On one condition...”

Dick cocked his head and listened for the condition,

“you _must_ show me how to do some of those incredible moves you were doing,”

Dick smiled big and nodded enthusiastically, 

“I will show you.”

Bruce returned the smile, and quickly realized he needed to address an issue,

“I also wanted to say, Dick, that I’m sorry I haven’t been around much lately. I wish I could have been more supportive over the past few few weeks but my job was keeping me very busy. 

I want to spend more time with you and will try to do a better job, alright?”

Dick practically tackled Bruce with his hug from their seated position. 

“Ok chum, let’s go get some of Alfred’s cookies,”

Bruce stood and patiently helped Dick up to his feet. As Bruce flicked off the lights to the gym, Dick turned to him and asked,

“....what’s a chum?”

~

The next day Bruce drove himself and Dick to the mall as Alfred had suggested. They had left early in the morning in order to avoid any crowds, but the fact that it was a Monday, and not the weekend, helped as well.

Bruce had let Dick choose which car they would drive in, and he chose the 1967 Plymouth Barracuda convertible. Although, Bruce figured that the boy didn’t care so much about the make and model of the car as much as he was simply attracted to the bright red colour.

Dick was a bundle of energy during the drive, excited to be in a convertible and on an outing. 

Bruce realized that he truly enjoyed the company of his ward. Despite all of the tragedy and injustice the boy suffered thus far he still managed to smile. Dick had a lightness about him which Bruce doubted he ever possessed himself, even before he lost his parents. 

Of course, Dick had terrible nights and moments of fear and panic, but all things considered it would be strange if he didn’t, Bruce figured. 

Reaching the mall, Bruce pulled into the parking lot and he and Dick entered the large department store. 

Bruce assumed there would be a good variety of clothes, shoes and other essentials in such a large shop.

Bruce turned to Dick and informed him, 

“Dick, you need some new clothes to build up your wardrobe. You can pick out anything you’d like to wear, alright? I will help you and grab some things that I think you might need as well. 

A hesitant look crossed Dick’s face for a moment, but he simply nodded at Bruce shyly and looked away; his mood seeming very different from the bubbly demeanour he had in the convertible not even 10 minutes prior. 

Bruce went through and gathered some basics that he thought a child might like to wear. A sales associate helped him with putting together outfits for the current weather conditions and in anticipation for cooler autumn and winter weather to come. She also assisted with picking outfits that were more casual, and a few that were more dressy and formal too. 

The associate helped pick out the right sizes based on Dick’s height and weight. Dick seemed to need sizes smaller than his age group would suggest. 

Once Bruce had a gigantic stack of clothes, shoes, socks and even underwear piled up, he checked to see what Dick might have selected for himself. Bruce was curious to see what Dick might choose for his personal style. 

He found Dick wandering amongst the racks of clothing just feeling the different fabrics. If he needed confirmation that Dick was a very tactile and touch sensitive person, that was it. 

He noticed that Dick wasn’t really looking at the clothing, and he also hadn’t selected anything. 

“Hey chum? Any luck finding something you like?”

“No, it’s ok,”

Bruce spotted a bright red t-shirt over Dick’s shoulder. He reached over and plucked it off the rack. The shirt had the black silhouette of an elephant printed on the front and Bruce probably would have bought one for himself if he could find one in his large size, and if wasn’t so far from the ‘billionaire businessman’ image he had to maintain,

“Wowee, look at this shirt! Isn’t it ever neat?”

Dick’s eyes lit up and he reached out slowly and touched the soft material. His hand grazed the price tag and he quickly pulled his hand back down to his side,

“Would you like to have this shirt?”

“No, thank you,” came the small response.

“Dick? Are you sure? We can add it to the pile of clothes you’re already getting,”

Dick looked over to the big stack of clothes and his face turned as red as the shirt Bruce was holding, he stood frozen in place.

“Dickie? Are you ok?”

Dick swallowed and looked up at Bruce with his innocent blue eyes, 

“Yes. But I- I don’t have a lot of money Bruce,” 

Dick reached into his pocket and handed Bruce a small wad of crumpled up dollar bills clearly saved up from the time before his parents were killed. 

It couldn’t have been more than $10 in total. 

Bruce fought to understand what he felt in that moment. 

He was floored by the sweet gesture of the boy giving him every last dollar he had to his name. He felt angry that the boy had so little, and what little the child did have was taken from him with the murder of his parents. 

Bruce also felt immensely sad that Dick felt that he owed him something and that he believed that his guardian would expect him to pay for anything. 

Bruce was hoping that Dick would take to him like a father figure which would mean that he would trust Bruce enough to take care of him and let him support him, including financial support as well. 

Bruce shook the complex feelings aside and reminded himself that Dick’s trust needed to be earned, and that a few weeks of living at the manor just wasn’t enough yet; especially not for a kid who had endured so much trauma.

He handed Dick the money back and said firmly,

“Please keep this money, Dickie. I am paying for everything kiddo. I don’t expect you to buy anything. I have more than enough money for the both of us, so don’t feel bad, ok? I am your guardian and I want to take care of you. Do you understand?”

Dick nodded, still looking unconvinced. 

Bruce put the shirt in with the pile of clothes and purchased everything. Once he had loaded up the purchases securely in the trunk of the car, he took Dick back into the mall with a small plan in mind.

The large man took Dick by the hand and led him to the front of a large toy store. 

Dick’s eyes bugged out of his head. Growing up in the circus he had never seen or been taken to any place like this before. 

Bruce crouched down before they entered the store and addressed Dick,

“Dickie, we are going to go into this toy store in a second, and you are going to choose whatever toys you’d like to take back home to the manor, and I am going to get them for you. I know shopping for clothes is boring so this will be more fun, I promise. Does this sound good to you?”

“Yes!” came the reply with no hesitation,

Bruce and Dick entered the store and Bruce thought he saw the moment when Dick’s systems went into sensory overload, 

The boy’s jaw dropped at all of the colourful packages, rows of bikes and walls upon walls of toys.

After about 30 minutes of browsing, Dick had only picked up a small, very glittery bouncy ball and an illustrated chapter book version of, ‘Robin Hood’. 

Bruce tempted Dick with more items, but Dick shook his head and waved them off. 

Bruce felt his frustration grow. 

Here was a child in a toy store who refused to get anything. He turned down bikes, playhouses, instruments, lego play sets, video games... everything! Bruce figured this kid was probably the only child in the world who didn’t want to buy the entire store, which Bruce was prepared to do if Dick would only ask. 

Bruce wasn’t sure how else to make it clear to Dick that Bruce would do anything to make him happy.

“Dick, why aren’t you picking out anything else?” 

Dick’s facial expression grew a little distressed, 

“I don’t want... you let me live your house. I safe in your house. You give food to me. You.. you... mă cumperi haine” _[*buy me clothes]_.. 

Bruce understood the Romanian words spoken by Dick. Bruce understood also that Dick’s English was beginning to falter which meant that Dick was starting to feel overwhelmed. 

Bruce perceived that he was being a colossal ass by trying to push Dick into trusting him and the situation so quickly. 

Bruce knew what Dick was trying to imply and that he was trying to tell Bruce that he was already doing so much for him and didn’t want to take advantage of his guardian’s generosity.

Bruce wished he could disagree and make Dick understand that he was worth so much and deserved so much more than just some measly clothes and toys. 

That would take time. Much more time than they would have at the toy store today, Bruce finally grasped.

Bruce gently took the ball and book from Dick and led him to the checkout.

He quietly paid for the items and walked back to the car with Dick’s cold hand in his larger, warm one. 

Once they were safely in the car and away from other people and distractions, Bruce turned to Dick and told him,

“Dickie. I hope you know that you don’t owe me anything. Ever. You will never have to pay for anything back, and I don’t want you to feel bad. I chose to bring you to my house and make you a part of my life. I just want you to be happy.”

Dick sat silently in the passenger seat. He was clearly contemplating Bruce’s words, analyzing them in his head to see where he could find the loophole. 

“You might not believe me, but I love and care for you like a son. I won’t ever try to take your father’s place, but I want you to believe that you are a part of my family now.”

Bruce reached towards Dick and put a hand on his shoulder. Dick didn’t flinch away but accepted the touch. A tear slipped down his cheek and he smiled at Bruce’s words, not finding any reason to doubt the man at this point. 

They drove home in a comfortable and safe silence. Feeling that they understood one another a little better after their outing.

Later that evening at the manor, Dick knocked on Bruce’s study and when the man opened the door, his ward encircled his midsection in a large hug.

“Thank you for my new clothes and toys, Bruce.”

“You don’t need to thank me Dickie, but you are very welcome. You can tell me anytime if you ever need anything else,”

Dick bounced his new ball a few times and Bruce caught it as the ball strayed in his direction. He examined the eye-catching ball in his hand and noticed that among the glitter on the ball there was a superhero logo on it as well,

_’...Superman’_

Bruce held the ball out to pass it back to Dick,

“Do you like Superman, Dick?”

Dick’s mouth split into a very wide smile and he nodded eagerly as he took the ball back from Bruce, 

“Yes!! I love him!! He is the best!!! Don’t you think so too?!”

Bruce hid his overwhelming urge to roll his eyes as he didn’t want to discourage Dick’s show of enthusiasm. Instead he just nodded slightly,

“Hn... yes, I suppose he is not bad.”

~

The next few weeks passed by fairly uneventfully. Bruce consciously made more time for Dick and they had movie nights every week.

On the occasional nights when Dick had really bad nightmares, he felt comfortable enough to come to Bruce and the protective man allowed Dick to sleep in his bed. 

Dick was becoming more trusting of Bruce. This showed in the form of lots of hugs and cuddling. 

Bruce hadn’t known at first how much the boy loved touch and how much it really comforted him. Bruce was glad that Dick felt safe enough not to flinch or shy away from either him or Alfred nearly as much anymore, and to actually initiate the hugs when he wanted or needed them. 

Despite Bruce’s professional image as billionaire ‘Bruce Wayne’, and his stern persona of ‘Batman’, he was a big, soft teddy bear when it came to Dick. 

Dick would ambush Bruce when he returned home from a long day at the office, oftentimes ‘sneaking up’ on him from behind and either climbing on him like a monkey or jumping on to his back. 

Bruce would throw down his briefcase and tear through the manor with a giggling little boy on his back clutching his arms around Bruce’s neck. They would horse around and genuine fits of laughter rang out through the walls of the manor for the first time since before Bruce’s parents were killed. 

Alfred would loosely chide the two for being careless and reminded them that this was, ‘not the proper way for two, civilized, young men to behave,’ but Alfred’s gentle smile and the joy on his face betrayed him.

The older man loved the joy that young Master Dick had brought into their lives. 

But if there was one thing that the three people who lived in Wayne Manor understood more than most other people, it was that happiness could be destroyed in mere seconds. 

... it was a harsh reality that they were all to face again much too soon.

~

Dick woke up on his own and figured that he must have been up earlier than usual since Alfred hadn’t been in to wake him up yet as normally does.

Dick peeked over at his clock and saw that it was 9:30 am. Noting that it was past his usual wake up time of 8:30 am on Saturday mornings.

He figured that Alfred let him sleep in. It was rare, but sometimes Alfred did allow it. 

Dick’s stomach grumbled so he sauntered down to the kitchen for some breakfast and noted that Alfred and Bruce were nowhere to be seen. 

Dick considered just going back to bed and waiting for an adult to come get him, but another sharp hunger pang nagged at his stomach.

Dick climbed up onto the counter and grabbed a bowl from one of the upper shelves. He jumped down, landing softly, and went over to the pantry.

Opening the pantry, his peepers narrowed in on what he was looking for on the top shelf... his favourite sweet cereal, _’Crocky Crunch’_

Alfred kept the cereal well out of Dick’s reach and only let him have a small bowl every once in a while as a treat. But since Alfred wasn’t here.... 

Dick began his climb of the pantry shelves scaling all of the lower shelves to reach the top. He tucked the box under his arm and climbed back down. 

Dick poured himself a huge portion of his favourite sugar laden breakfast treat. 

He added milk and the cereal overflowed a little, spilling on to the countertop. Dick looked over both of his shoulders once more to make sure Alfred wasn’t anywhere in sight. 

Dick sat at the kitchen island and slurped the milk from the edge of the bowl. He then grabbed the spoon and started quickly shovelling the crunchy cereal into his mouth. 

Dick tried hard to finish the bowl, but he discovered that his eyes were bigger than his little stomach. He gingerly hopped down from his seat, feeling the food slosh around uncomfortably in his overly full tummy. 

He pushed a chair to the sink area and dumped the uneaten cereal down the sink and flipped on the garburator to get rid of the wasted cereal. 

Dick rinsed out his bowl and wiped spilled milk off of the kitchen island with his pyjama top’s sleeve to get rid of any traces of cereal-eating evidence. 

Dick went and sat on the edge of the couch wondering when Bruce would come down to watch cartoons with him, as they did together every Saturday morning. 

The boy grew more and more perplexed as he waited for Alfred and Bruce. It was nearing 10:15 am and their lack of presence was highly unusual. 

Dick searched for the two missing men in Bruce’s study, the gym, both Bruce and Alfred’s bedrooms. But there was no sign of either of them.

Dick began to feel frantic, like a lost child at a grocery store, and he started to run and open all of the doors in the manor,

“Bruce?! Alfred?!! BRUCE!!! Where are you?”

Dick ran back downstairs in a panic to look in the kitchen again and that’s when he heard faint noises coming from Bruce’s study. 

He ran to the study not expecting to find anybody in there since he had already checked there a couple of minutes ago.

He flung the door open only to freeze in shock at the vision that confronted him. 

Alfred and Bruce were together, but where they came from, Dick had no clue. Alfred had Bruce’s arm slung around his shoulder, helping bear some of the larger man’s weight. Bruce was dressed in a t-shirt and sweatpants; he looked haggard and like he had been attached by a violent cheese grater as he had so many cuts and scrapes all over his face and arms. 

Bruce was stitched up or bandaged in other areas as well and that was just what Dick could see. Bruce limped forward when he and Alfred noticed Dick’s stunned and horrified expression,

“Oh chum....”

Dick couldn’t hear the words Bruce was saying to him as there was too much blood rushing in his ears. Dick could only hear the quick and shaky sound of his own breathing. 

The blood on his guardian and mentor brought back images of seeing his dead parents laying in a pool of their own blood. The terror of possibly losing another person close to him was too much to cope with for the 8 year old. 

Dick stumbled backwards until his back hit the wall, his vision grew hazy as he lurched forward and fell onto all fours. The smell of his parents’ blood filled his nostrils.

If Dick was worried about Alfred finding out about him eating cereal earlier he would definitely be exposed now as he emptied all of the contents of his stomach out onto the hardwood floor. 

As his arms started to give out and he started to collapse forward, Dick felt a pair of strong hands grab onto him, and all of a sudden he was back at juvie about to have the living daylights beat out of him. 

Dick screamed and tried to pull himself away from the imposing figure. His blue eyes darted around wildly, but he couldn’t see past the blur of frightened tears. 

Dick felt someone put his hand on a big, warm and flat surface. He felt the space under his hand steadily expand and contract,

“Dick, chum, feel me breathing. In and out. Now you do the same thing, please,”

The voice was deep and calm and pulled Dick just enough away from his flashback to comply,

“Good, chum. Keep it up. Stay with me. You’re ok I promise. Everything is going to be ok,”

Dick bristled at the comment, and tensed up as he didn’t care about himself being ok in that moment. He choked out hoarsely,

“Bruce... Help Bruce! Bruce is hurt!!! Is Bruce going to die?”

At that comment, Alfred rushed to Dick’s side understanding the fear the boy felt at losing another loved one. Alfred had a lot of experience with comforting distraught children, having done so with Bruce throughout the younger Wayne’s childhood. 

Alfred first focused on the very pale looking Bruce in the room. The large man looked as though he was on the verge of vomiting and passing out himself. 

Alfred decided to take the reigns. 

“Master Bruce, please get up to bed, You need your rest. I will tend to Master Dick.”

“But Alfred-“, Bruce tried to argue weakly, wanting to be there for his distraught ward.

“Sir. You will trust me and do as I say. I will be up to see you shortly.”

Bruce obeyed and slowly limped out of the room, trying to keep his own grasp on consciousness. 

Alfred, the true master of the house, helped to re-assure Dick that Bruce was alive and fine. He also helped to walk Dick through some more calming techniques and carried the boy up to his bedroom. 

Alfred bathed the child and tucked him back in to bed. The boy was exhausted in the aftermath of his panic attack. 

Alfred dutifully cleaned the vomit from the floor of the study and proceeded to prepare some soup and medication for Bruce.

When he entered the master bedroom he found not one but two sleeping bodies in the bed. It seems that Dick had made his way in to check on Bruce personally and managed to snuggle in next to the large man under the covers.

~

Alfred and Bruce tried their best to support Dick following his stumbling upon Bruce in the aftermath of Batman’s battle with Killer Croc.

Bruce wasn’t badly injured at all, but he could not seem to convince his young ward of this fact.

Dick had a million interrogative questions for him about how he came to be injured and he could see the repressed anger the boy carried at the fact that somebody had hurt Bruce. 

Dick didn’t buy the initial explanation of the car accident when he followed a hunch and discovered all of Bruce’s cars undamaged in the garage.

It turns out the little boy was a fine detective already. 

The worst part was the clingy behaviour Dick began to exhibit; needing to know of Bruce’s every movement and whereabouts,

“I’m just headed to a late board meeting at the Wayne Foundation, Chum,” Bruce pleaded, “you don’t want to come, it’s too boring for children,”

“I will come. I will keep you safe, Bruce.”

Bruce smiled gently and thought of how ironic it was that he was actually going to be headed to a Justice League meeting. And here was his young lad thinking he wouldn’t be safe, _’If only Dick knew,’_

So Bruce dismissed Dick and left a frustrated, angry and very anxious young Flying Grayson behind.

~

“Alfred, any luck? Has he returned to the manor yet?”

Batman asked Alfred over his comms system.

“None, sir. The security cameras show he left the manor approximately 30 minutes ago and he has not returned.”

 _’Shit!’_ Batman cursed to himself. The streets of Gotham were no place for an 8 year old child, especially not in this cold weather.

Batman tried to deduce how far Dick might have been able to travel on foot in 30 minutes and he began to triangulate potential locations, starting with the old fairgrounds. This is where Haly’s Circus had performed on the fateful night that Dick’s parents had been killed.

No luck.

Alfred’s voice chimed into Batman’s comm ear piece,

“Sir, the security alarm at the entrance of the Wayne Enterprises building has just been triggered. I have disarmed the alarm so the police will not attend. I do believe it is Master Dick.”

“On my way, ETA, 10 minutes,” Batman responded as he hopped back into the Batmobile. 

8 minutes later, the Batmobile pulled up to the front entrance of the Wayne Enterprises building. Dick wasn’t at the front, so Batman drove around to the back, got out and found a little boy scaled up the side of the building about 20 feet up. _Dick!_ He was kneeling on a ledge outside of a locked window peering inside.

Batman grappled up to the boy’s position and cleared his throat to get Dick’s attention.

“Batman!” Dick cried out,

“Thank God you’re here! My dad.. he’s here at a meeting. He might be in trouble, can you help him, please?!”

“Your dad?” Bruce blinked from behind his Batman cowl

“Yes! Please help me find him! Somebody has hurt him before, he could be hurt again!”

“Kid, come with me, I’m going to take you home now. Bruce and Alfred are worried about you,”

“You know them?”

“Yes. Now come with me.”

“Um. Batman sir, what’s the secret pick up word?” Dick asked sheepishly remembering what Bruce and Alfred had taught him about stranger dangers. He had been taught never to go with anyone who was offering him a ride unless they mentioned the secret family password that would be provided to the person by Bruce or Alfred. It was a password that only Bruce, Alfred and Dick knew. 

Batman smiled proudly at the child and responded, 

“Zitka.”

Dick nodded and clutched onto Batman who lowered them to the ground near the Batmobile via his grapple gun.

When the Batmobile was en route back to the manor, Batman turned peek at the young boy.

He smiled fondly as he could see the wonder on the kid’s face at being in the Batmobile with _The_ Batman.

He felt an insistent curiosity and was compelled to ask,

“So kiddo, your dad is Bruce Wayne?”

Dick hesitated and thought for a beat before responding,

“My real father died, Mr. Batman, sir. But Mr. Wayne made me his ward, brought me home to his house and he is very nice to me. He doesn’t hit me like when I had to live in the jail for kids.

I- I feel like he is my dad. I get worried that he won’t want me sometimes if I do something wrong. Sometimes he doesn’t spend a lot of time with me. Maybe he will be mad at me for leaving today.”

Batman paused and asked,

“You said somebody hurt Bruce Wayne?”

Dick paled,

“Yes Batman! He came back home from somewhere one day and he was hurt. I know it wasn’t an accident like he says! I don’t know who did it but what if it was Tony Zucco? Can you arrest Zucco, Batman?! I can help you! I don’t want to lose another dad! I love Bruce!!”

“Alright chum. Let’s calm down. We will get this figured out.”

At that moment Batman pulled in to the Batcave and Dick hopped out of the Batmobile. 

He registered the name Batman just called him,

_’chum’_

Dick turned slowly towards Batman and found that Batman had removed his cowl and he was looking at ... Bruce Wayne?

_’But he is in Batman’s suit’_

Alfred emerged from the darker shadows of the cave and the boy stared wide eyed at the both of them,

“Chum... sit down. We need to have a talk.”

~ 


End file.
